Between Two Worlds
by GunOnTheRun
Summary: Before his death, Albus Dumbledore seeks out an old friend who has been on his mind, everyday, for the past three years ... (Set from OOTP and onwards) Tom/OC


_**Well dear Harry Potter fans, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this fic. If so, then hit that review button and let me know. If you have any other questions, queries or ideas for the story please feel free to either leave a review or PM me; whichever you would prefer.**_

_**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe was created by J.K Rowling and therefore all Harry Potter characters, trademarks, names and other related indicia are the property of J.K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury and other respective owners. This disclaimer is true for the whole of the fic and shall not be repeated.**_

* * *

It was raining that day.

The type of rain you can taste in the air just before you feel it. Rain that gnaws its way through skin and bone until you can't move much more than a few fingers. Rain you don't forget.

I had, in a momentary lapse of judgement, worn my suede heels that night; the whipping of rainwater had now battered them beyond ruin. My numb feet were already blistered. I remember thinking it couldn't get any worse. Me, in here; sore feet with no umbrella,

It was like some cosmic joke or something.

Just sitting there, listening to the rain under the cover of the station; waiting for the last train to come.

* * *

Kings Cross was barren. I had expected there to be more than a few people stumbling about in search of their platform (it was a Friday evening after all) but it was dead, unusually so; it felt... out of place. Removing the heels from my maltreated feet I attempted to rub life back into them but to no avail. It seemed my toes would just have to warm up on their own. My thoughts turned to simple things; what to have for dinner tomorrow, the leak in my apartment roof, buying new slippers. Time became irrelevant; it wasn't like I had anywhere else to go. I looked at my wrist watch; the hands perfectly positioned at 00:03. The train would be in by 00:30. I sighed noisily, letting my head rest back upon the bench, trying to at least get comfortable. I felt something sticking to my leg and noticed half a leaf clinging to my bare skin. Reaching past my pencil skirt, I gingerly peeled it off and flicked it on the floor; a short gust of wind sent it spiralling off, past the neighbouring café and into the distant regions of the station. I smirked at the disappearing leaf with false cruelty; holding my head high,

"You messed with the wrong leg, my friend"

My words softly faded out across the empty tracks; I listened. After a moment or two the leaf was completely out of sight. I watched where it had once been for another few seconds before losing interest. Unsurprisingly there was a thin, red patch and a small itch where the leaf had been; a few scratches later, it too disappeared.

* * *

I always liked train stations. Opera adverts plastered poorly across the brickwork and the bulbous lights romanticized the place; though the slightly dodgy electrics caused a noticeable flicker. Now my feet were back from the dead, I wiggled my toes to entertain myself but there was only so much time before I became tired and bored and gave up, choosing instead to stare down at my watch; 00:03. I shook it, looking over it once more; indeed, the second-hand had stopped moving. Apparently the day _could_ get worse. My chilled fingers ran a path through my sodden hair; gripping on the back of my scalp, as though the pain would somehow make me remember if my sudden, non-functioning watch had worked right earlier. I craned my neck upwards to see the black, howling sky through the fogged station roof; where would I go if I had missed my train? It was then, that I noticed the weight of the bench had dropped slightly,

"Been consorting with the leaves again, have we?"

Spooked, I twisted my head sharply to the left. Time seemed to stop once more as my eyes caught sight of the stranger before me; that face, bringing back a thousand memories. His cheerful smile lifted my own and I forgot all about my troubles, as I marvelled in his appearance; just like all the other times. His starlight, blue eyes were as ever mysterious as his ways; they always had a hint of mischief about them. In the dim light of the station, I could make out his fitted, leather hat that rested slightly slanted upon his crown and the simple stone colour robes underneath masses of well-groomed beard. It had been too long since I had heard his voice; even longer since I had seen his face,

"It's not my fault you know, they just won't _leaf_ me alone…" My lame, pun intended reply was atrocious, but he shook with genuine laughter none the less. It was a warming moment; to know things hadn't completely changed between the two of us. Shuffling my body to face him I ensued, grin fixed in place,

"Still sporting Santa's beard I see?"

Frowning, he tipped his head back; stroking his outrageously infinite beard with mock hurt,

"I've sported his beard for the past 113 years." His voice boomed with pride, "You never seemed to mind it when last we spoke."

"You're right, I didn't- I don't, but many things have changed since then…" My eyes got lost, drifting past his shoulders for a moment, to connect with the odd, blue brick wall at his back,

"I'm sorry."

The statement slipped forth from my mouth in a near silent whisper, "I've had a lot of time to think on my wrongdoings; enough to hate what I had done, who I had let myself become that fateful day. I told myself; the next time you see him, say it. It doesn't matter where nor when, just say it ... So here I am, finally saying it; I'm sorry."

"I know... and I forgive you."

He placed his palm atop my own. He didn't need to speak the words again for me to know they were true, "For years I had beaten myself up about the choice I had made. The look on all their faces when I told them…" my head sunk a little, "I had disappointed you all and-and…" I shook all memories of that night from my mind, "Albus, I never want to be the cause of such looks again. I was an obtuse, thoughtless coward and I'm sorry."

He smiled knowingly; it was all I needed. A comfortable silence blanketed the two of us. It gave me time to recollect what had passed between us. It had been around three years since I'd seen the Hogwarts headmaster; three years since I had left the Wizarding world behind me. My time spent in the Scottish highlands brought back bitter-sweet retentions, some of which were better left undisturbed. I made my choice to live, hidden in the muggle world; a decision I thought was the right one. My stare flicked back to the tick-less watch strapped around my wrist; the hands still perfectly reading, 00:03. I gave a light snort in amusement,

"I should have known you were here"

He raised his eyebrows, "How so?"

"My watch always stops working when you use your magic" I tapped it lightly and held it up for him to see, "I should have remembered…" the words left a bitter taste in my mouth. I watched something in his eyes flicker with equal regret,

"Why are you here, Albus?"

The question echoed across the void, dissolving in the clashing of the rain above. I watched his features change from the humble, ever-cryptic wizard, into something far darker. And for a second, his face tipped slightly further into the light. Enough for me to finally see the grey hue of his skin, the sagging bags under his creased eyes and the dull shade of his normally moonshine hair. He was so different from the man I used to know; there was something bad brewing in the Wizarding world, something keeping him restless at night. His hands broke away from my own as if burned. He spoke only a name,

"Tom Riddle"

The conversation, previously full of familiar frivolity, turned dead in an instant. I could feel my tongue dry up; words became stuck in the hollow of my throat. And for a moment, we shared a feeling which we had left behind us, overcome, an all-consuming disease I cared not to dwell upon; fear. The fear of it happening again, the fear of the destruction and madness and countless deaths that would repeat themselves, over and over until there would be nothing left of both worlds; magical and muggle alike. The wizard before me was no longer the youthful, charming Albus Dumbledore I once knew but merely an old man, who had lived much of his life in constant battle, faced with decisions most would break under. The Dark Lords return was a promise of war,

"Are you certain?"

There was a pause,

"No."

I could feel each muscle tightening, joints clicking as I searched his face for the truth, "How can you make such a statement if you know nothing?"

He raised a finger, "Certain, I am not. I have no proof in the Ministry's eyes to make such a statement" I shared a confused look, he continued, "However; I have a good reason to believe so. I have trusted my gut for many a year and, as you know, it has never been wrong."

I closed my eyes, "And what does your gut say now?"

"That he is back. And you will be the one to help me stop him."


End file.
